Simple Acts
by HaloFin17
Summary: An injury to Legolas at Ravenhill results in more father-son interaction than the movie was willing to grant. AU for the end of BoFA, just a oneshot. Enjoy!


**Summary: **An injury to Legolas at Ravenhill results in more father-son interaction than the movie was willing to grant. AU for the end of BoFA, just a oneshot. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Legolas, Thranduil, or anything connected with them. Isn't it tragic?

**Author's Note: **Written because those pitiful scraps the movie gave us between Legolas and Thranduil weren't nearly enough. Seriously, couldn't they let Legolas address Thranduil as "Adar" at least once? And just a little physical contact would have been greatly appreciated too, thank you very much.

**Simple Acts**

It wasn't often that Legolas miscalculated. What made this particular instance so infuriating was that it had come right at the end of the battle – _after _his adversary had already been dealt the killing blow. Yet, all the same, it had happened.

The Prince of the Greenwood had not stepped back quite far enough to avoid the crumbling stones beneath his feet, and he too had fallen from the same height as Bolg's revolting corpse. Even then, he had almost walked away unscathed. Almost. He had managed to land on his feet, catlike, but he had landed atop a pile of rubble. Rubble which, evidently, could not support even his light step.

The rocks had disintegrated under his right foot only, catching and twisting his leg while the rest of his body instinctively pitched in the opposite direction. As Legolas fell with stones collapsing all around him, his ears caught the unmistakable crunch of broken bone, and he landed flat on his back with a sharp gasp. Shock prevented him from moving for a few moments, until he could regulate his breathing.

Thankfully, the Eagles were driving the rest of the Orcs away from Ravenhill, so he was not in any immediate mortal peril. As it stood, he was simply exhausted, in a great deal of pain, and increasingly aware of the damp cold that crept into his skin. He dared a glance down at his injured leg. The Woodland Prince had suffered broken bones before, but never to this extent. While the limb was certainly bent at an awkward, gruesome angle, some modicum of good fortune had at least prevented the bone from piercing through his skin.

"Tauriel!" he tried calling out once again for his friend. Again, only silence answered.

It irked Legolas to no end, being faced with this utter lack of mobility while he did not even know if Tauriel had survived the day's bloodshed. And if she too had been injured, he would now be powerless to help her. Perhaps one of the Eagles would eventually see him and fly off to recruit assistance? He really couldn't hope for a better outcome at this point.

"Legolas!"

Finally, he heard the blessed sound of his name being called from a distance! But that familiar, worry-laden voice was not the one he had expected to hear.

"Adar?" Scarcely willing to trust his own ears in this instance, Legolas pushed himself up as far as he was able, grimacing.

Sure enough, a fully armed King Thranduil came running into sight, having emerged from the base of a nearby watchtower; and as he observed his elder's approach, Legolas wondered distantly if he had ever really seen his father running at full speed before. Thranduil soon reached his child and knelt gracefully beside him to assess his injuries.

"Lie still," the King commanded, all business despite the concern in his bright blue eyes, and Legolas complied without resistance. It wasn't as though he could do much else. But what in Arda did his father mean by coming to Ravenhill alone? Had he not made it clear that his people were to have no further part in this conflict?

"Did you see Tauriel?" the younger Elf demanded without preamble. "She is here somewhere, but I do not know how she fared in the battle."

The response was immediate. "Tauriel is not my child – _you _are. And right now, my thoughts are only for you."

The Prince looked like he wanted to argue further, but he wisely held his tongue. Furthermore, in a broader sense, that answer did help explain his father's unexpected appearance.

"You cannot travel in this state," Thranduil at last concluded, his voice and visage equally grave. "The leg must be set before I dare move you." A few moments later, he had salvaged some fragments of broken spears which could serve as a temporary, makeshift splint.

"Are you hurt elsewhere?" he inquired, to which Legolas shook his head in a simple negative. The King then sliced off a few strips of fabric from his own cape, which he would use to secure the splint.

"Here – you will want this."

Legolas just blinked for a moment at the leather glove that his monarch now held out in front of his face; he knew its intended purpose. Huffing out a quick sigh, the Prince nodded once and accepted the glove in between his teeth. He then tilted his head back and closed his eyes while Thranduil went about the unhappy task of setting the broken limb.

Although the older Elf worked as quickly as possible, Legolas could not stop his entire body from seizing involuntarily in response to the surging pain. His jaw clenched around the leather, and blood pounded the echo of his rapid heartbeat into his ears. As his reality slowly came back into focus, Legolas became aware of his father's low, musical voice above him, murmuring words of strength and healing. The relief was far from absolute, but it did help him relax again. A surprisingly gentle hand rested on his head.

Regret weighed heavily on Thranduil's next words. "I wish I could allow you more time to recover, child, but we must return to the city by nightfall. This place is still not entirely safe."

"Wait!" Legolas gasped in protest even as his father's strong hands started to pull him upright. "We cannot leave Tauriel here. Please, Adar, go and find her. I swear, I will remain here and rest until you return."

Thranduil merely raised his eyebrows. "I do not believe you are not capable of anything more than that, _ion-nin_. Nevertheless, for your sake, I will search for her."

Legolas only nodded his thanks, his energies too far drained to offer more. He drew deep breaths of the chill air in his father's absence, for even with assistance, he knew he would need all the strength he could muster in order to reach the city. No doubt Thranduil possessed sufficient strength to carry his only child if need be, yet the mere thought was enough to make Legolas cringe. After all, he had inherited no small part of his father's pride.

At length, Thranduil himself reappeared, and the King advanced with such uncommon hesitancy in his step that Legolas feared the worst report.

"Is Tauriel alive?" he pressed, dreading the reply.

"She lives, battered but whole." The father knelt by his son once more. "I found her grieving over her dead Dwarf, and she would not yet be parted from him. I could not bring myself to tell her that the pain she feels now will never truly cease."

Legolas looked up sharply, sensing a certain vulnerability in those last words, and was shocked to see an undeniable mist of grief hovering behind those ancient eyes. Deep down, Legolas knew his father cared for him as deeply as any good-hearted parent loved their child…but the evidence of it was often lacking. Thranduil had never been given to overt words or gestures of affection, and after the tragic loss of his wife, the King had retreated even further into the impenetrable fortress of his own self. Very seldom were any ever granted a glimpse behind those walls.

And so the moment passed as quickly as it came, and Thranduil brusquely resumed, "She will follow us when she is ready; somehow I rather doubt she will have any difficulty catching up to us. But you and I must be on our way."

"Wait!"

"Yes, what is it now?"

Legolas almost winced at the sigh that had accompanied those words, knowing full well that his father was hardly the most patient of Elves.

"I had meant to retrieve my knife…"

Thranduil followed his gaze over to Bolg's mangled body, and this time, the King's sigh bordered on grim amusement.

"Of course. I suppose I cannot fault you for that." He fetched the weapon himself, wiped the blade clean, and returned it to the proper sheath on his son's back.

And Legolas almost laughed aloud, for not even Tauriel herself would have been so meticulously attentive. Perhaps Thranduil considered such small, simple acts to be the safest manner of expression, preferable by far to any outspoken sentiment. After all, a clean knife or a torn cape scarcely posed any great threat to whatever emotional fortress Thranduil had constructed for his own protection.

"Now are you quite ready?"

Awoken from his reverie, Legolas nodded and inwardly steeled himself for what was to follow.

The Prince's head swam dizzyingly when he was first raised to standing, and Thranduil permitted only a brief respite before leading them away. They made slow progress indeed across the treacherous terrain, with Legolas essentially one-legged and supported almost entirely by his father. And yet, the younger Elf couldn't help taking comfort in the familiar warmth of the tall, unshakeable presence at his side. Tauriel never did join them.

Despite Thranduil's obvious wish for haste, darkness had completely descended by the time they at last reached the ruins of Dale. Bard the Dragonslayer emerged to receive them, but all questions died on the mortal's lips as soon as he caught the King's eye. For all too well of late did Bard know the look of a father obsessed with preserving the safety and wellbeing of his child. He didn't even need to voice his offer of assistance before the Elven monarch shook his fair head in refusal.

And while Thranduil now schooled his features into a more appropriate kingly expression, he did not depart from his son's side until Legolas was safely entrusted into the care of his best healers.

**Author's End Note: **To paraphrase what Gandalf says to Galadriel in the first Hobbit film, "It is the simple acts of love and kindness that keep the Darkness at bay." Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas to all!


End file.
